My Witch & Her Gift
by SeptimaBode
Summary: Draco's POV. Companion piece to The Side Witch & The Gift. Disclaimer: I own nothing...obviously.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This is the companion piece to The Side Witch & The Gift. Some moments may seem repetitive if you've already read it, but I thought they were necessary, I hope you agree.**

 **As always...enjoy. *kisses***

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My Witch & Her Gift

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Alright listen, I'm only doing this once, so pay attention. I don't enjoy embracing the namby pamby side of relationships, and I doubt that's going to change. I hope you didn't come here expecting me to proclaim my everlasting love upon a sea of rose petals, surrounded by flickering candles and the gentle hum of violins. However, that's not a terrible idea, and I might store that bit away for the future. I'm sure you understand.

"Draco, you're taking too long." That, my dear readers, was my father. The formerly intimidating Death Eater.

"Father! You're the one that convinced me to do this in the first place, and now you're displeased with my ability to articulate?" I didn't hex him, but I'm not going to lie and say I wasn't tempted.

"Draco, for any story to be told properly, there must be more than one point of view. Your…wife has already shared hers, and I'm sure you fell under fire for your inability to express your…feelings." It amused me greatly to see my emotionally stunted father's lip curl, but, ugh, he wasn't wrong.

I couldn't believably say I had changed much over the years, but that's why I loved her. She didn't expect me too. Don't listen to her now though. She'd tell you all about how I was kind and loving and even affectionate. I beg to differ, and I can't have those sorts of rumours flouting about. I am a Malfoy and…

"Barely." For the love of Merlin, my father is just going to keep on with his snarky little comments. He can't help it. She's changed him a fair bit too, but that's another story I suppose.

"Go on then, get it off your chest." I tapped my toe, and valiantly tried to keep my temper in check. Lucius Malfoy has a tendency to grate on one's nerves when exposed to him for long periods of time.

"If it hadn't been for my intervention, my granddaughter would have been named Rose. My own son was willing to forego the traditions of his forefathers for his Muggle-born wife, and you dare say you haven't changed? Any Malfoy worth his weight in galleons would have boldly declared his way was the only wa…"

"LUCIUS!" That was my mother's bellow. How completely unbecoming of her. I smirked as I watched my father tuck his long hair behind his ear and walk briskly toward the door.

I could have asked him something facetious such as 'you were saying?' but there really wasn't a need to push the point further. He wasn't wrong, but he wasn't right either. I freely admit we had almost named our daughter Rose, but only because I was tired of arguing with her about it. Not once did I bring up the Malfoy traditions, which is what softened her heart. I suppose it worked to my advantage.

I have to admit, I was really pulling for my mother. I always was quite fond of the names Carina and Cassiopeia, but near the end, my opinion mattered the least. The moment I saw her, I didn't care what she was named. She was beautiful and she was my daughter.

"Daddy?" I'm never going to get a moments peace. I couldn't be angry with her. She looked incredibly petulant sticking out her bottom lip, with her pretty little pout, but I wasn't a fool. She was scheming as easily as she was breathing.

"Stella…my little star…does Mummy know you're up here?" Stella, my little curly headed blonde daughter, smirked at me and crinkled her nose.

"Not uh. I waked up." She toddled over carefully, mindful of her sleeping gown, and attempted to climb into my lap.

"Stella, love. You know you can't do that when I'm holding your brother." Did I not mention having two children? Well, in case I didn't, I do.

"Hmm. You tellin' a stowy?" She's only three, and she's got a bit of trouble with her r's, but she's getting there.

"Well, yes, I suppose I am. If you're very quiet, you can sit in our bed and listen until you fall asleep." I knew she wouldn't last long, she never did, therefore, I was completely confident in my ability to continue my little story without skipping out on the good bits.

I managed to gently rock my son while he slumbered as Stella climbed up into our four-poster bed. I had objected to the wooden stool Hermione had set near the foot of the bed, but I was overruled. Gods, no wonder my father said I was barely a Malfoy. I'm a disgrace.

I don't remember what I thought the first time I saw her…

"Daddy. Stowies stawt with once up on a time." I need a fucking drink.

"Once upon a time…"

Hermione Granger was a Muggleborn witch, and the best friend of Harry Potter. I saw her being Sorted, and thought her hair was frizzy, her teeth were monstrous, and didn't give her another thought. Of course, that was my mistake. She bested me in nearly every subject, except Potions, and I hated her. Now I realise, I hated her because it was expected of me, and because of her choice in companions.

She'd never done anything to me, well, besides that punch in third year, but I sort of deserved that. If you ever repeat that, I'll deny it. Eventually, she grew on me, but not in a good way. In a way that made me want to shake her a lot and watch her head flop on her shoulders, until the Yule Ball.

Yes, I'm aware it's terribly cliché and no, I didn't secretly fancy her or anything. I simply noticed that she was actually a girl. She wasn't hidden beneath robes that were too large. Her face wasn't buried in a book. She didn't have ink on her chin or a quill tucked behind her ear. She was pretty and it unnerved me a bit.

I didn't spend nearly as much time thinking about her as Blaise assumed I did. I don't know how it happened, or even when, but does it matter? I swear, everyone gets caught up in the nonsensical details rather than the heart of the story.

Some time after the War ended, I'd spend my evenings in a seedy little pub. The place where it all started, really.

The Leaky Cauldron was entirely too mainstream for me. I wanted to be left alone. She started to frequent my favourite seedy little spot in the entire world. I assumed it was after the disastrous ending of her relationship with the Weasel.

I had read about it in the Daily Prophet as I assume everyone else had as well. I sat in the corner, and watched. I was curious, I admit it. She wasn't half bad to look at after all.

She never drank more than a glass of wine. Her smile was always pinched, and never reached her eyes. She never noticed my presence, which suited me just fine. It was months before we spoke, and well, I suppose that's what they would call history.

I saw her out of the corner of my eye one evening, while I was huddled beneath my cloak. The little pub near what used to be Knockturn Alley was sparse with customers. I expected as much, considering Yule was quickly approaching. I didn't think she'd show. It had become a sort of weekend ritual to watch the door for her, but frankly, I thought she'd be spending the holidays with the Potters or some such Gryffindor nonsense.

She was a bit of a mess, honestly. I watched her drink a copious number of scotch and sodas, impressed her ability to hold her liquor. It was late, I was exceedingly tired, and decided it was time to leave. I pulled my cloak up over my ears, the way I always did, and passed her stool.

"Thanks, but I've got to go. It's late." She hiccupped and covered her mouth before sliding off her stool. She didn't see me, and I was distracted by the predatory shine in the barkeep's eyes. "Sorry!" She stumbled directly into my side, and her knees buckled.

I didn't even consider the ramifications, and caught her. She frowned heavily as she stared up at me, and suddenly, I was laughing. I don't know exactly why. Perhaps, it was due to the ridiculous expression on her face, or even the fact Hermione Granger wasn't balking at being in my arms.

It's funny. She tells everyone we closed down the pub, but that's not what happened at all. There wasn't a chance in Muggle Hell that I was going to spend another moment in that pub, not with the way Frank was eying her. I didn't like it. It made me uneasy, and perhaps it was innocent or perhaps he was up to something nefarious, but either way, I didn't wish to find out.

"Granger, you're completely pissed. You naughty little witch. Come on, let's get you home." I suppose there was something telling in my eyes, because she didn't argue with me. She nodded, waved to Frank the barkeep, and allowed me to escort her to the door.

"Thank you for that." She whispered the moment we stepped into the frigid air. "I didn't like the way Frank was looking at me, and I didn't want to be rude, but…"

"Granger, it's cold. Let's go then." It amused me to see her sputter, but her options were clearly limited.

She couldn't Apparate home, not if she wished to retain all of her limbs. She most definitely couldn't return to Frank's lingering gaze. She was stuck with me, and I didn't mind nearly as much as I probably should have.

It was easy enough to drag her down Diagon Alley. She didn't struggle or even prattle on about nonsense. She stumbled a bit, but I had a firm hold on her. I remember nodding to Tom, and then we were stepping through the Floo. I wasn't about to Apparate with her, that was entirely too intimate for my liking.

"Where did you take me?" I smirked because of course she was asking questions the moment she discerned her surroundings. I didn't expect anything less.

"No, I don't live at the Manor, before you even ask. I couldn't very well bring you home, considering I don't know where you live. We're in my flat, Granger. Why don't you sit before you topple over…again." There was something obscenely alluring about the way she bared her neck while toying with her hair.

She nervously made her way to the sofa my mother insisted I purchase. It was rich, black leather and terribly cold, which is probably why she liked it. I had covered the back with a heavy green caftan, but it didn't help much. Granger removed her cloak and she glared at me.

I realised I had hissed lightly, if you could call it that, through my teeth even. No wonder Frank had been eying her. Granger was sporting some red, shimmery, form clinging dress that would have made Salazar Slytherin sit up and beg.

"Maybe it would be better if I went home. I'm sure I can navigate the Floo and…"

"Don't be ridiculous. I'll set on the kettle." I wasn't remotely ready for her to leave. It had never even crossed my mind that Granger had a body.

I mean sure, I'd considered it when we were children, but she was definitely all grown up. It was more than a little difficult to keep my eyes off her, but I managed. The last thing I wanted was for her bolt because I was being a lecher.

I could hear her heels clipping across the hardwood floors while I occupied myself in the kitchen. Knowing her, she was rearranging my books, and picking up my cloak, and Merlin knows what else. I wasn't wrong.

When I returned with the tea service, she was hanging on my cloak in the front closet, and had slipped off her shoes. She paused upon hearing the clink of the teapot, and I pretended she hadn't done anything amiss.

"I'm surprised you don't have house elves for that." Granger was almost smiling as she barbed me, but as long as she stayed, it didn't matter.

"I do, but before you get your lacy little knickers in a bunch, they're free. You'd be pleased to learn my father freed them. He's been desperately trying to get into your good graces since the whole Wizengamot debacle. I informed him of your pet project while we were in Hogwarts. S.P.E.W. was discussed over many a dinner." I rolled my eyes and gestured toward the silver tea platter I'd placed on the coffee table.

I didn't want to discuss my father's obsession with her. It was unseemly for one, and for two, I didn't understand it. He'd always despised her and informed me at every opportunity that she was beneath us. I suppose her generosity had managed to make Lucius Malfoy do an about face. I don't know, I don't even care.

"Y-you…remembered…S.P.E.W.?" Well shit, I'd gone and impressed her. "Even Ron only managed to…"

I didn't want to listen to her talk about fucking Weasley. From the looks of it, she wasn't particularly fond of the idea either. I stopped listening, and led her to the sofa. The incredulity in her big brown eyes really was amusing.

"So Granger, did you finally come to your senses? I never imagined you as the sort of witch to fall for the likes of the dim-witted Weasley." I ignored her predictable outrage and poured her a cup of tea.

I liked that she didn't shy away from me. Our knees brushed while she added a swirl of honey to her tea, and eyed the plate of scones with a small blush on her cheeks.

"What does it matter, Malfoy? Do you wish to have a go?" Hermione Granger snorted at me, and plucked a lemon scone from the plate.

I waited until her hands were full. She balanced her teacup and saucer in her left hand and nibbled the scone in her right. She was so close, I could count the freckles on the bridge of her nose.

It was easy enough to push her hair to the side, and expose her ear. I watched the way she held her breath, but she didn't leap to her feet. She didn't move an inch, which suited me just fine.

"I think…" I inhaled deeply just behind her ear, "maybe…I do."

I wanted to kiss her. I really wanted to kiss her, but I didn't. I had never been one for kissing, but she was different. It didn't help matters that I could still hear my father's apathetic voice in my head.

" _Draco, in the event you decide upon a witch to take to wife, then and only then, is it acceptable for a Malfoy to engage in amorous activities, specifically kissing. Of course, this is only applicable after you come of age. A Malfoy must practice until perfect after all."_

I had practiced plenty, let me tell you, and nothing was as intimate as kissing. Faces incredibly close together, breath mingling before lips were compressed. Then, there was the tasting, and the tongues, and fuck, I wanted to kiss her. Instead, I licked her earlobe.

Granger's fingers slipped from the saucer, and it hit the floor, but I didn't care. Her eyes were closed, but she wasn't bolting. It was easy to segue to her throat, even the top of her exposed shoulder, but it was hell keeping my hands to myself.

I don't know how it happened, but I was vaguely aware of the fact Granger was in my lap. My right hand was tangled in her hair, but my left was busy with the zipper on her delightful red dress. I groaned my appreciation for her lack of brassiere when I touched the bare skin on her back, and she jumped.

"Wh-what are you doing, Malfoy?" Granger yanked her indecently short dress down to the tops of her knees, and I almost laughed, but decided against it.

"I'm fairly certain I'm seducing you, Granger."

She was always untouchable. I couldn't even pretend to entertain the idea of breaching her wards while we were children, and I didn't want too. She was the highly esteemed Hermione Granger, and I was Draco Malfoy, destined Death Eater. We might have cohabitated in the same Wizarding World, but we walked in different circles.

"You're Draco Malfoy." She shook her head, studying my face, which gave me ample opportunity to slip the thin straps of her dress down her arms.

"Yes, and you're Hermione Granger. I'm no longer a Death Eater, though it can be debated if I ever was one in the first place. You are no longer with the Weasel. I'm single, you're single, so what's the problem?" She barely noticed her breasts were completely exposed, but I noticed, and they were absolutely delectable.

"I'm not interested in being a one-off and my judgement is obviously flawed and…"

She was listing every reason not to fall into my bed. I'd never had that happen before, but I honestly didn't expect anything less. She was known for her analytical mind and it seemed even with the aid of spirits, her mind never stopped. It must have been exhausting to be her.

At the same time, it allowed me to cup one of her breasts and brush my thumb across a straining pink nipple. I liked the way Granger gasped, and I wanted to hear her do it again. She was going on and on about her friends and preconceived notions, so I ignored her and lowered my head. I nipped and suckled that rosy peak until she groaned.

"Oh Gods."

"Oh, you're done then? Good. Granger, I don't do one-offs, contrary to the rumours I'm sure you've heard. Actually, I'm a bit of a serial monogamist. Therefore, if I'm shagging you, I'm only shagging you."

My father was absolutely appalled by my serial monogamy, but it never bothered me much. I wasn't the least bit interested in becoming one of those horrid little wizards with numerous witches hidden in the shadows. I wasn't particularly interested in procuring a wife, but I didn't want to be a cad either.

While she contemplated my words, I kept myself busy. I varied between her heaving breasts and the lace of her knickers. Granger's thighs were pressed tightly together, but eventually, she relaxed, and I knew she was mine.

I'd tell you about the tawdry bits and described Granger's nude body with every glorious miniscule detail, but there's a certain little blonde girl frowning at me. I can't very well talk about her mother in such a fashion. Well, I can, but I'm going to wait until her pretty brown eyes droop closed, then it will be a completely different story. Promise.

Suffice it to say, I was the reason she was late for work Monday morning, and I wasn't the least bit sorry. She never once tried to kiss me. I wasn't sure how I felt about it. I was used to fending off women, but not her. She was always different, and I suppose that's why I wanted to keep her.

I didn't know I wanted to keep her, not right away. I was lulled into delusion that she was simply another witch to pass the time, but she wasn't. She never really was that sort of witch. She also wasn't the sort to acknowledge me in public, and that bothered me a fair bit.

I wasn't used to dealing with someone quite like her. Hell, I'd never met anyone like her. Granger never fawned over me. She never batted her eyes or made an excuse to approach me. She would simply gaze at me from afar, and I realise now, that only made me want her more.

I tried to entice her to want me, but that didn't work either. It really was frustrating, I mean, ridiculously frustrating. Granger didn't want to head to Bavaria for the weekend. She didn't want to travel anywhere. She didn't want a drawer for Merlin's sake, and I thought every witch wanted a drawer.

It took me two years to even consider broaching the subject with anyone. Two years of seeing her only on weekends, and only in the dead of night. Two years of plying her with gifts, she refused to wear. Two years of suggesting dinners, and she'd simply smile, kiss my cheek, and tell me we didn't do things like that, and leave. Two years of her leaving me for reasons I didn't even understand.

"Why did you tell me any of that?" Blaise Zabini actually made gagging noises while I was mumbling into my firewhiskey. I don't know why I chose him, but it's not like I had a lot of options. Could you imagine Lucius candidly listening while I lamented my pseudo relationship?

"Who the fuck else am I supposed to tell? Would you like me to invite Harry Potter to tea, and discuss his infuriating female friend? I doubt that would go over well. Would you like to me speak of this with my parents? My father would shudder and my mother would cry. I haven't anyone else, you wanker." I really was incredibly intoxicated, but it was only a Wednesday, so what did it matter? It's not like she was coming to see me. She never did during the week, and I had asked.

"You're pathetic. I'd laugh, but I don't want too, because of the drinks." Well, it seemed Blaise was completely pissed. "You like her. Draco Malfoy likes Hermione Granger. This amuses me because you're you…and she's…you know herself and all that. You more than like her actually, I remember when you sort of liked Pansy…"

"Shut up, please don't make me remember." I hated him. I should have kept every strange Hufflepuff feeling under lock and key.

"Whatever, you did for a hot minute. Fourth year or some shit like that, who even cares? You definitely didn't chase her for two years…"

"I'm not chasing her!"

"Well, you sort of are. I mean, you're inviting her out to dinner, and she's declining. You're giving her gifts, and she's not wearing them. What would you call it?" Blaise propped his stupid fat head on his fist, and his bleary black eyes were laughing at me.

"I don't like you." Fuck. He wasn't wrong. When had I become so pathetic? I was chasing Hermione Granger, and she was…she was…keeping me a secret. "Do you think she's…ashamed…of me?" I didn't particularly like the way that made me feel.

"I would be. I mean, if I were a Gryffindor witch secretly shagging the big bad former Death Eater, I would be ashamed…but, I'm not a Gryffindor. I'm a Slytherin and I'm ashamed of that, so don't take my word for it. Hermione Granger wandered Diagon Alley with Ron Weasley, so why not you?" Blaise hiccupped and refilled his tumbler, and I hated him just a little more.

"I don't want her to be ashamed of me." I whispered, and suddenly I felt very sober. Didn't much like the way that felt either.

"Then do something about it. I can't listen to this shit anymore. I'm going to Floo Pansy, I'm sure she'd be willing to listen."

Blaise wasn't wrong. I wasn't doing much of anything and maybe that embarrassed her. Granger made me feel insecure and I fucking hated that. I didn't want her to have that power over me. I wanted to be in control of my thoughts and feelings, but I wasn't, at least not where she was concerned.

It wasn't long before she was leaving me again. I should have expected it, but Granger always managed to blindside me. It was a special talent. I knew I was being particularly surly, not to mention withdrawn, but it wasn't because of her. It was me.

I couldn't recall a time in my life when I'd ever felt…the way she made me feel. I didn't know how to process it. I didn't know how to express it. I didn't know much of anything about it, but she knew something was amiss. I could see it in her eyes. I could see everything in her eyes.

"Malfoy, this isn't working." I don't know how she could do a bit of thinking with my hand up her skirt and my mouth on her breast, but Hermione Granger was special.

I ignored her, the way I always did when she broached the idea of ending our…affair. I didn't want to discuss all the things we didn't do, the things she didn't want to do. I wanted to explore her naked body, and listen to her breathy sighs.

"Granger, it's working just fine, you just don't want to admit it." It was a simple matter to tear off her knickers and stroke her weeping sex. She was moaning before I ever slipped a finger inside, just the way I liked it.

It was nary a moment before I was pulling her astride my thighs, and she was sinking onto my cock. It never got old. I expected it to, but it didn't. Every time was like the first time, which is exceedingly Hufflepuff of me, and I don't even care.

I wanted her. I always wanted her, but I was still too afraid to admit to such things, especially to her. Honestly, I thought she'd scoff at me and leave me, but it seemed she was leaving me anyway.

I loved to watch her abdomen contract while she flexed in my lap. I loved to watch her breasts bounce while my fingers dug into her hips. I loved the way her hair would fan out behind her, eventually clinging to the sweat on her back. Fuck, I might have even loved her, but how the hell was I supposed to know what love is anyway?

I remember watching a thin strand of sweat drip down between her breasts and pool in her navel. I remember the way Granger's head flung back, and I struggled to keep hold of her waist. I remember the way her lips parted as she ground her hips into me. I remember thrusting and grunting before latching onto her throat and sucking hard. Gods, I remember everything, but in the end, she was gone.

I worked my fingers to the bone for the next two years. My father was ridiculously proud of my accomplishments, but I didn't care about that. I thoroughly enjoyed being part of Research and Development at Malfoy Industries, and I excelled at it. I liked the way that felt. I liked putting in a long, hard day. I liked being proud of myself. I liked that, somewhere along the way, Granger and I segued into something…different.

She came back, she always came back. I'm not sure what I would have done if she hadn't, but regardless, I didn't tear off her clothes the moment I saw her. I didn't make lewd and lascivious comments to make her blush. There were evenings we simply sat before the fire, sipping perfectly aged wine, and discussing our work.

Granger liked it when I listened to her. I liked the way her eyes would widen and shine when I asked a question. It was obvious the bumbling idiots never showed the slightest bit of interest in her work. At least I knew she absolutely hated it. She hid it well, but I finally knew her.

I'd never taken the time to actually learn about a witch before. I knew she was always chilly in the late evening and preferred to cuddle with caftans than to put on a sweater. I knew how she took her tea and that she preferred buttered toast to porridge.

She chewed her lips when she was nervous, and everything she was feeling happened to shine in her eyes, whether she wanted it to or not. She twisted her hair when she was angry, and sighed for absolutely no reason at all. She always slept on her left side, and she slept better when I was beside her, but I couldn't.

It was fear, but you'll never hear me repeat that, not ever. I liked it. I liked it too much. I liked the way it felt to smell her in my bed. I liked finding stray Granger hairs on my pillow. I liked the way she sighed when I held her close, and I couldn't tell her.

It wasn't because it was showing weakness. I'd worked entirely too long to shed my father's Pureblood ideals to allow that miniscule teaching to hold me back. When it was convenient, and when I felt cornered, I hid behind it. I blamed my mother at times as well, because anything was better than the truth.

Granger talks in her sleep. She probably doesn't even realise that she does, and I'll never tell her. I wouldn't want to see the regret in her eyes. I wouldn't want to hear her stammering and apologies.

I had never managed to catch an entire sentence, just a few words here or there. I was forced to make up my own scenarios and they were dark. They were always dark, but you can't blame me.

'… _love you…'  
'…stop it…'  
'…Ron.'_

I didn't like any of those words, and I especially didn't like them together. I hated that she worked at the Ministry. Yes, I knew Weasley had left to pursue his dream of being an adult child, but that didn't make me feel better. He was best mates with Harry fucking Potter, I'm sure the ginger git was there all the bloody time.

"Father, I want you to give Hermione Granger a job." I hadn't been planning on asking my father for anything, but it wasn't the worst idea I'd ever had.

I could keep an eye on her. Perhaps, she'd allow me to take her to lunch. We could chat in the corridor like adults. Eventually, the clients and employees would be used to seeing us banter. Maybe, if Granger would allow it, we could become something real.

"How long have you been shagging her?" My oh so elegant father had a way with words, didn't he? He still does. Some things really don't change.

"Four years." There wasn't a point in lying. Lucius Malfoy always had a way about him to suss out the truth.

"Interesting." My father slowly paced the length of his extravagant office, and even managed not to pound his ridiculous cane on the stone. "I'm assuming you have a preferred _position_ you'd like her to fill, besides the ones in your bedchamber?" He smirked at me. He bloody smirked at me, and there wasn't fuck all I could do about it.

"She's suitable as far as Potions are concerned, but she'd absolutely thrive in Research. I'm not suggesting you assign her to me. I'm suggesting, you reassign me, and offer her my position." I watched his eyes narrow, and held my breath.

I'd taken quite a bit of time contemplating the best way to present the idea to my father. It took planning and careful words and knowledge. Hermione Granger was absolutely brilliant during Hogwarts, and I knew there was nothing she loved as much as she loved her books. Not even me. Well, not that I knew she loved me, or anything, but even so…

"The Board would balk at the idea of having a Muggle-born witch head Research and Development, but I must admit, we are lagging behind. I'm sure Ms. Granger could bring…certain _qualities_ …that would be most refreshing." Father's hair whipped across his face, and he stalked toward me quite quickly. "You are aware, you must observe the workings of the current Potions Head until such time as you're prepared to take over..."

"Yes, Father. I know. I know it's going to take time. I know it will probably take close to a year, but regardless of my…personal relationship with Granger, she's perfect for the job. Think of all the delightful press Malfoy Industries will receive for procuring her directly from the Ministry." I knew I had him then. Despite my father's cool demeanor, Lucius wanted nothing more than to regain the family name, as well as the prestige that came along with it.

"I'm almost impressed, Draco. I'm more than aware you have ulterior motives for your suggestion, but even so…impressive. Absolutely Slytherin of you, and I've had my doubts. There will be ground rules, of course. I can't even imagine the outrage and backlash if some unsuspecting intern discovered you shagging in a storage closet." He shuddered, but honestly, he was just giving me ideas. I hadn't thought of that. Of course, I was after he said it, but that's not my fault.

"I've been spending a few hours per day in the Potions Lab. Your current Potions Master refuses to consider the idea of requisitioning supplies from the current Herbology Professor. He believes it is beneath him to swallow his meager pride, considering he despises Neville Longbottom. Our Potions are no longer the best, due to the fact he has been procuring our ingredients through questionable means." I loved to watch my father silently simmer.

His anger quickly turned to fury, and yet the only telling sign was the tic in his cheek and the tightening of his jaw. It was only a matter of moments before his knuckles whitened considerably and the low hiss informed me it was best to leave, which I did posthaste. It was only a matter of time before the miserly Potions Master was replaced with none other than me.

I had a plan. I didn't know exactly where I was going with it, but I definitely had a plan. I knew I wanted to see Granger. I mean, I always wanted to see her, but I wanted to see her on a daily sort of basis. I wanted to move forward, but I wasn't exactly sure what that meant.

We had already been dancing for four years, and I knew there was a next step, but I'd never taken any steps. I really should have paid more attention to relationships before I was in the midst of one, but I could learn. On the other hand, I could take the easy way out, and ask Blaise and Pansy. I'm sure you can guess what I chose.

"You're in love with her." Pansy Parkinson sat primly on the edge of my leather sofa, quite pleased with herself.

"Shut up." She had a habit of making my ears bleed, and time hadn't changed that. "I don't even know what that means." I was rethinking the whole 'asking my friends' bit, but it was too late.

"Malfoy, she's not wrong." Blaise helped himself to my firewhiskey, but that wasn't anything new.

"Fine, go on then." I paced. It was something I did when I was anxious, and even hearing that pesky little word made me feel nervous.

Pansy smiled. I hated it when she smiled. She's the most Slytherin of any Slytherin and her smile meant someone was about to be decimated. I had a sneaking suspicion, it was going to be me. I wasn't wrong.

"I just want to make sure I've got everything right. I mean, from what Blaise has told me, you've been going on about her for years. You mentioned wishing to have a discussion with us months ago, therefore you've grappled with the idea. She's constantly on your mind, and suddenly you're not satisfied with weekend liaisons. You want more, but you're completely unsure what that actually means. Have I got that right, Draco?" She batted her long lashes, and I snarled at her. "I'll take that as a yes. From the state of your flat, you have allowed Hermione Granger to rearrange your books, and it's actually clean. You're leaving your position at Malfoy Industries in order to offer it to her. You'll see her on a daily basis and that pleases you. Draco Malfoy, you're smiling." Shit. Fine, I was smiling.

It wasn't something I did often, not then, but more so now. I had many reasons to smile now, but then was a different story. She made me smile, but I hid that tidbit. I hid most things, which was apparently detrimental.

I didn't like to think about those sorts of things, let alone feel them. I didn't ruminate on the way…no, I'm not going to tell you, not now anyway. Perhaps later, if I'm so inclined.

"She leaves you." Blaise interjected between loud slurps of my fucking firewhiskey and laughed at me.

"She comes back. She always comes back."

"One day, she's not going to come back, Draco. It's been years. You can't keep stringing her along, and expect her to keep coming back. She might be Hermione Granger, but she's still a woman." Pansy sighed dramatically, and reclined on my sofa.

"I know she's a woman!" I absolutely despised the idea of Granger leaving for me for good, but it was a distinct possibility. "What am I supposed to do then?"

"Imagine your life without her. Imagine how you would feel to know she'd moved on. Imagine how you would feel to learn she'd married and was having someone else's child. Imagine how…"

"Stop it." I didn't want to hear anymore. I didn't want to imagine any of those things. She's mine.

"That way you feel right now? Imagine feeling that way for the rest of your life, because you couldn't be a fucking man and tell the woman you love, that you actually love her. Now, do something about it you emotionally stunted child." Pansy crinkled her little pug nose at me, and marched directly into my Floo.

I stared at Blaise, but he only shrugged. I was on my own. I didn't want to be on my own. I didn't want to lose her. I didn't even want to entertain the idea of losing her, but at the same time, I was a Malfoy. I was taught from a young age to maintain a certain façade. I was taught emotions were weakness, that I was weak.

"Malfoy, channeling your father isn't going to help you out of this mess. You've managed to think for yourself the past few years, maybe do that instead." Blaise gently laid my tumbler on the side table, and soon enough he had left me to my own devices.

I knew what I needed to do, but I still wasn't positive I was ready. Pansy's little 'imagine' speech continuously flowed through my mind and I knew, I didn't have a choice. I needed her. I needed Hermione Granger, so I went to my vault.

It was three days prior to her birthday when I saw them. I had finally made a choice. I can't begin to tell you how many pieces of inappropriate jewelry were littered in the Malfoy Family Vault. Most of them were hideously ugly, and I almost gave up.

Strangely enough, it was my mother who aided me. I don't know how she knew I was there. I suppose one of those nasty little goblins informed her I was spending copious amounts of time browsing the family fortune. It doesn't matter, I didn't care then, and I still don't.

"There's a lovely piece in your Grandmother Black's vault. I've kept it separate since the beginning of the War. Just in case,…you defected. I wanted to make sure you were well taken care of, even then. I'm sure you could find something there." My mother, the great Narcissa Malfoy carefully led me down into the doldrums of Gringott's to aid me in choosing a ring for my witch.

"Mother…"

"I know, Draco. I've known for years. Did you think I was blind? Did you think I haven't observed my own son?" My mother smiled at me. She smiled. I didn't know she was capable, yet there she was. I was thankful she hadn't hugged me, I might have just died.

"But she…I mean…"

"I can't say she is what I would have chosen for you, though I can see the appeal." She sniffed, and I braced myself for some nauseatingly long monologue about the history of her family and Pureblood lines, that never came. "Even your father is intrigued by her, and if that man can alter his perceptions, then I suppose I can as well."

She handed me a small black box and arched her eyebrow, waiting for me to open it. I half thought it was a trick, until she scoffed with her Narcissa irritation, and snatched it from my fingers. She pried it open with reverence and held it aloft.

It wasn't some gaudy bauble surrounded with gems the size of my head. It was tasteful, surprisingly, and completely understated when compared to the jewelry I had been perusing. It was perfect.

"How did you know?" I admit I was afraid to touch it. Somehow, holding it would make it real and I was still vacillating.

"Oh Draco, you really are your father's son." My mother shook her head slightly, and gazed at the rough ceiling of her mother's vault. "Hermione Granger is not a wealthy Pureblood witch. She has not been groomed since birth to expect the very best, and as such has simple tastes. She has always been completely understated…oh don't look at me like that. While I can't say I was ever particularly fond of her, I do have eyes. Here, take it and do what you will." She left me there, with the little black box in my hand.

It really was a beautiful piece. It was platinum, even I knew that much, and the gems were emeralds, which was expected. I quite liked it, and immediately I pictured it sparkling on her finger. Apparently, I wasn't vacillating anymore. I had made a decision, but nothing goes the way you think it will.

I wandered Diagon Alley, my pocket feeling exceedingly heavy while it carried my secret. For a moment, I considered venturing into my little pub for some liquid courage, but I heard her laughter. It was easy enough to step into a darkened doorstep and observe her.

She was walking the cobblestone, arm and arm with that fucking Weasley. I didn't know they had remained friends. She never really spoke of him, besides the time I had asked. I didn't know much of anything where Granger and the Weasel were concerned, and that bothered me a fair bit.

"Do ya ever regret…us?" The ginger git was smiling at my witch, and I hated him.

"Yes and no, I suppose. We were friends first, and I always valued that, but…" Gods, she was beautiful. The sun was low in the sky and it highlighted the multitude of colours in her hair. "You want someone like your mum and I…don't want to be that someone."

I held my breath and they passed so closely, I could have easily snatched her arm. I could have pressed her against the cobblestone and snogged her senseless in front of everyone, but I didn't. I didn't want to make her acknowledge me, and I suppose that was pretty telling in and of itself.

"I should have just accepted you the way you are. I think I could now, if given the chance…" I saw the way he was leaning toward her, and she didn't even see it coming. I couldn't watch anymore. I Disapparated with a pop, seething with fury.

She's mine. She can't go back to that undeserving bastard. She's been mine for years, and Harry Potter's Sidekick thinks he can just waltz back into her life? Fuck.

"Draco?" I had gone home, my childhood home. In my blinding, seething anger, I had returned to my mother. Shut up.

"Mother, didn't you mention the Greengrass family was returning?" Ever the Slytherin, I was already plotting and planning. I was angry. I was hurt. I didn't want to admit I was hurt, therefore the only course of action was to retaliate.

Narcissa Malfoy dragged my unwilling father into the sitting room, and glowered at me. She pushed at my father and gestured toward me, with her lips pressed firmly together. I can't remember a time when my mother was literally speechless, and I wanted to revel in it for a moment, but then my father was smacking me about the head.

"What the ever-loving fuck?!" That was definitely the wrong thing to say. I realise that now in retrospect, but it was done.

Eventually they calmed. Who knew they were so attached to the idea of Hermione Granger as their daughter-in-law? I was barely cognizant of the fact I wanted to marry her, and here my parents had me ensconced in the Manor with enough children to rival the Weasleys. They are a peculiar pair.

I didn't really want to court a Greengrass. Neither of them was particularly appealing, but Astoria and I were semi-friendly. She was a cute little thing, and more like that annoying sibling than anything, but I wanted…well, I don't know what I wanted. It didn't seem to matter either, as magically there was going to be some sort of welcome home dinner and I was to escort Astoria.

I imagined being on the front page of the Daily Prophet. I imagined the whispers of impending engagements. I imagined the anger on Granger's face, and thought perhaps this wasn't the best recourse, but my mother said it was too late. She's also a liar, in case you were wondering.

When we stepped into some strange French nouveau sort of place, I wanted to leave immediately. Astoria had been chattering in my ear nonstop for hours, and I wished I were deaf. Apparently, her mother had suggested the idea of a match between us, and it pleased her. It didn't please me, not in the least, but my darling mother said something akin to, you made your bed, now suffer in it. I'm fairly certain that is not the phrase, but I didn't wish to be smacked again.

It was our day. It was one of our days. I wanted to see her, Granger I mean. I wanted to give her the pretty little box. I wanted to apologise for the Daily Prophet doing what it did. I wanted to see her face when she opened the gift, but suddenly she was there.

My throat went dry, and I'd never had such a time controlling my features as I did then. She was wearing my gifts. From the looks of it, she was wearing all of them. I couldn't stop staring at her, and even Astoria knew something was amiss as she clutched my arm in a vise grip.

My father swiftly moved toward my witch and then, they were conversing. I hated him. I didn't want him speaking with her. I wanted to speak with her. I also wanted to tear that delectable green dress from her body, and ravish her against the wall.

I don't know what they were saying, but my father was bloody tapping Granger's chin as her mouth was gaped open. He glanced over his shoulder, and frowned at me. I suppose I was giving the wrong impression by allowing Astoria to cling to me, but what was I supposed to do? Was I supposed to shove her away and watch her tumble to the ground?

The Greengrass family was making their way toward the door, my mother quickly followed with a scowl on her lips, especially for me. Lucius swept from the room without a glance, and here was my chance. I couldn't leave in silence. I had to say something.

I don't know how I moved across the room with the tiny irritating witch stuck to my side, but I managed. Granger was close enough to touch, but I refrained. I drank in every exposed inch of her skin. I wanted to taste her from head to toe, but I couldn't think about that now without impeding my ability to walk.

"Granger." She was holding her breath. I liked that I had that effect on her, but stupid Astoria was pulling on my robes. "Go with my mother, I'll be along shortly." At least Astoria had enough sense to be polite. She bobbed her head and smiled slightly, which is better than nothing.

"Malfoy." Granger's voice was low and breathy. I swear she did that on purpose, and my cock twitched. The ginger Potter made some strangled cat noise, and left us in peace.

Fuck, I wanted to touch her. Instead, I leaned in. I wasn't afraid of her entourage. She could explain our interactions. It was something she should have done years ago.

I licked her ear. That's right, I licked Hermione Granger's earlobe in front of Harry Potter and everyone else glaring at me from across the room. She hissed, which only made me feel powerful. I told her to come to my flat at eleven, and I even kissed her cheek.

"I don't take well to demands." Oh shit, she was doing it again.

I should have been used to it, you'd think I would be, but this time was different. This time I had plans dammit. I was going to say words that I'd never said before, to anyone. I was going to…well, I hadn't figured it all out yet, but even so.

"What are you doing?" She was hurting me, and it was difficult to keep my composure.

I can't recall everything that was said, but then the ginger Potter was there, sneering at me. I remember rolling my eyes at her casual use of the word boyfriend. Boyfriend, no, it was much more than that, and then Granger sliced through me.

"No. Not a boyfriend. Not even a little, not even at all." My Granger was capable of being cruel, and I couldn't help but to stare at her exposed back as she retreated.

It took every ounce of willpower to keep from following her. I wanted to shout at her. I wanted to air our business in front of everyone. I wanted to say fuck propriety, but I didn't. I deserted my parents and Astoria in order to hide away in my flat.

"She's going to leave me." I spent many an hour mumbling to myself, nursing a tumbler of watered down firewhiskey while watching the minutes tick by on the wall clock.

When my Floo roared to life at half past ten, my heart surged. I wasn't greeted with an indignant Hermione Granger encased in a slinky emerald green dress. Instead, I was face to face with a wide-eyed Astoria Greengrass.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I didn't have time to deal with her. I still had high hopes my Granger would come.

"You're still so rude. Look. I spoke with your mother. I know you're not interested, and I wanted to apologise for practically throwing myself at you over dinner. My mother is still completely deluded, and my father wasn't the least bit of help either." Astoria was in the process of doing all sorts of annoying things. She walked. She talked. She touched my things, and then she was disrobing.

"What the fuck are you doing? I didn't invite you here. I don't want you here, and I definitely don't want you to remove your fucking clothes." I was completely aghast. I mean, on one hand, she was apologising, and on the other, she was getting naked. How do these things even happen?

"Draco, come on now. I know you're not going to marry me, and that's fine. My sister said you were always good for a quick shag…and I thought…" A tentative knock interrupted Astoria's little speech, and I was thankful she stopped removing her clothes as well. "Who would be calling on you this late? Bollocks. You've already got someone. Merlin, I'm such a fool…" Astoria was struggling into…whatever the fuck she was wearing, but I was already out the door.

I knew it was Granger. I knew she would come, and there was no doubt she heard Astoria.

"Fuck." I ran my hand through my hair, and then I was chasing her.

I realised it was stupid and simply Apparated to the alley. It was the only Apparition point nearby, and Granger was moving surprisingly fast in those silver heels. I watched her remove her wand from the strap on her thigh, but I wasn't going to simply let her leave.

I grasped her hand, and shoved her into the brick. She didn't struggle, not even when I pressed against her. My chest was heaving, but it wasn't from running. I didn't do much of that, no, it was from her close proximity. I couldn't explain it, even if I wanted too.

"You're late, Granger." She was staring at the ground, and the stubborn set of her jaw alerted me to her anger and probably her hurt.

"I-I was delayed." Ah, there was my little spitfire. She was absolutely furious, and I liked it. It was the first time she'd really shown any emotion as far as I was concerned.

I told her the partial truth. I hadn't thought she was coming, but I had hoped. I didn't want her to know about my hope, not yet. I ran my fingers through my hair, and sighed. I didn't know what to say.

We bantered a bit, but what really struck me, was the redness of her eyes. She was Granger, and Granger didn't cry. She just didn't, especially where I was concerned. Her vulnerability was as alluring as it was disconcerting. She kept going on about Astoria. I mean, who the fuck cared about that bint? I certainly didn't, but Granger must have thought something was amiss, and I didn't blame her. I couldn't.

"Granger, just go to your flat. I'll be there momentarily." I didn't even wait for her to argue with me. I didn't have time.

Knowing her the way I did, I'm sure Granger was fretting over the little things, like how I even knew where her flat was in the first place. I'm sure she was angry with herself for not saying every thought spinning through her pretty little head. That's just the way she was, the way she'd always been, the way I loved her best. Shit. I do love her.

"Astoria, get out." The bint at least had enough sense to be dressed. Part of me expected to find her reclined in my bed.

"I'm sorry. I really am. I hope I didn't ruin anything…"

"Please, just go." I gestured toward the Floo hurriedly.

I didn't want to give Granger too much time on her own. Merlin knows that woman was capable of riling herself up faster than anyone I'd ever met. She was obviously upset, I mean, really upset, and I didn't know if it was from speculation on her part or something I had done, but I needed to get to her.

It was a simple matter to discover the whereabouts of her flat. The Wizarding World is a tight knit community. I suspected she wasn't living amongst Muggles, and even if she was, Hermione Granger wasn't going to live without the Floo Network. Fine, I bribed a few Ministry officials, and they were perfectly willing to divulge the information. Are you happy now?

Granger didn't even hear the roar of her Floo. She was simply standing there, gnawing her lip, and guzzling what I knew to be scotch and soda. I wondered how long it would take her to realise I was there, but decided to intervene in the end.

"You really should consider switching to water. I can't imagine you'll be able to deliver your rousing speak otherwise." She screamed, and her glass went flying over her head.

I resisted the urge to laugh at her. Her eyes were squeezed shut and one day, she was going to have to explain to me why she did that. She looked absolutely smashing, but there was a subtle cuteness in her flustered state, and I commented on it.

Granger backed away from me, her silver heels scraping across the hardwood, and it was terribly easy to box her in. I took a moment to study her, I mean really look at her. It made me nervous, anxious even as this flood of emotion throbbed in my chest. I swallowed hard, because suddenly, I was afraid of her rejection.

"I know what you're going to say." I did. I knew exactly what she was going to say, but I didn't want to hear it. "You're not wrong, but you're not right either." I wanted to kiss her, and I probably should have.

I watched the way her eyes constantly flicked to my lips, and realised she thought much the same. I wondered if she wanted me to kiss her, but she made no move forward and, well, neither did I.

"I don't want to argue with you, I'm tired." Her shoulders slumped, and damned if my Granger didn't look completely defeated. I hated it a little.

"Then…don't." I couldn't resist her.

There was something so completely captivating simply seeing her unruly curls cling to the side of her neck. I breathed in her scent and felt the gooseflesh rise along the surface of my skin. It wasn't a moment later and my lips were traveling along her exposed skin.

Granger didn't put up a fuss, and allowed me to traverse her miniscule flat. It really was the smallest flat I'd ever seen, but at the same time, it suited her. It was a simple matter to discover the whereabouts of her bedchamber, and then I was removing her dress.

I perused her with new eyes. I drank in her almost flawless skin, my gaze lingering on those delicious garters and even the freckles along her shoulder. I resisted the smirk tugging at my lips when the light blush on her cheeks spread across her chest, and removed her knickers. I made quick work of her shoes and her brasserie, but I left those garters in place.

"Perfect." I barely remembered removing my own clothes, but none of that mattered.

I didn't want to launch headlong into a quick tumble. I wanted it to be different. I felt different. I wasn't resisting the idea of loving her. I wasn't resisting the emotions that had plagued me for years. I wanted to love her. I wanted to keep her. I wanted to show her.

Everything was in slow motion. It might not have been, but it sure felt that way. I kept my eyes locked on hers. I'd never done that before, and I didn't hate it. I liked the way her eyes widened, and her lips parted. I liked the little noises she made while I investigated every inch of her skin.

I couldn't stop touching her. It wasn't simply erotic, it was completely mind numbing and satisfying all at the same time. The way Granger's back arched when I stroked across her ribs. The breathy little sigh when I tasted the hardened dusky peaks tempting me. The way her knees parted when I teased her, until her teeth were firmly embedded in her bottom lip.

When I finally eased my way between her thighs, hilt deep no less, I felt complete. I had always thought it was a sappy sort of connotation. I didn't know men were capable of such depth of emotion. I rocked into her, against her, pushing, and pulling. I felt my witch clenching around me, her fingernails digging into my sweat slicked skin.

I was groaning, while the air was filled with her moans and sighs. It really was absolutely perfect. I couldn't have asked for more, but then again, that wasn't true at all. I kept the pace achingly slow, I was struggling to maintain control, and then she was mumbling into my chest. It spurred me on, and she was literally crying, but I don't know if it was with sadness or relief, as I spilled into her.

I wasn't going to wait any longer. Normally, I'd simply collapse and make some snarky sort of remark. I didn't do that. I fucking kissed her.

Gods, what the fuck had taken me so long to do it? I don't even know. I should have done it years ago. I probably would have figured out exactly how I felt the moment my lips touched hers. I was absolutely positive she could see it in my face, read it in my eyes, and I wanted her too. I wanted her to know.

Her lips were soft and willing. Her surprise only afforded me access when she gasped. It was a spiritual experience. It was everything I'd ever hoped it would be, and more. I nibbled her lip, and sucked her tongue. I tasted her, and desperately clutched her to me. I didn't ever want to stop, and I didn't, for more than awhile.

I held her face in my hands, pulling back slightly to gently peck at her cheeks. Granger had finally closed her eyes, whimpering as I sighed into her hair. I rolled to my side and brought her with me, unwilling to let her go. I cursed my stubbornness. I cursed my emotional immaturity.

She fit perfectly in my arms, did I ever tell you that? She did. Her body molded to mine, and my hands never stopped moving. I slid my thigh between hers, grasped her hip, stroked her back, and just breathed her in. My lips were swollen, and I was sure hers were as well, but I didn't stop, I couldn't, until she started to cry…again.

I didn't know what to do. I'd never comforted a crying witch, let alone my witch. Why was she crying? Was I supposed to ask? Was I supposed to just hold her tighter? I was absolute shit with that sort of thing, so I kissed her again.

"Happy Birthday." Maybe that would fix it. What the fuck did I know? Nope, not that. Saying that was apparently the wrong move. Fantastic.

Granger pushed and shoved at me, until I was forced to release her. She scrambled from her bed and tossed on her dressing gown. I just laid there, waiting. She told me I needed to go. I didn't want to fucking go. I couldn't even pretend to understand, what the fuck was happening.

"Granger." I touched her shoulder, but that didn't help me any. She flinched away from me and leapt to her feet.

Granger went into this long sort of speech, I suppose you could say. I was really confused. She kept going on about the things she wanted, and what I was unwilling to do, but she had it all wrong. She was the one who refused my invitations. She was the one who refused to tell her friends about us.

"…because I wasted my life with a man, who would never lower himself to give me those things." What even?

She was absolutely insane. I wanted to give her all of those things, but she wasn't listening. Granger had practiced her little speech until it was memorised and perfect. This was that moment I had dreaded. She was leaving me, and she wasn't coming back. It didn't matter what I said, her mind was made up, and I felt like someone had died.

I got angry and perhaps a little snarky, but my little witch came right back at me. She shouted at me. She actually thought I was going to marry Astoria. Gods, she is as brilliant as she is stupid. She was killing me. Granger was taking the heart I had only just discovered existed, and smashing it to bits.

"Fine, I won't touch you either. Here." I had moved forward, stupidly thinking I could change her mind with all the affection I'd been withholding. Instead, She retreated and I slammed that fucking box onto her bureau. "I know you're not going to open it today. When you do…come find me."

There was a dark cloud hanging over my head, akin to the soul squeezing sadness encompassed by a Dementor. She looked so angry, sad, and broken, all at once, and I knew my sentiments were mirrored in my eyes. I reached for her, but then rethought it, and shoved my hand into my pocket.

She stepped toward me, and I held my breath. I wanted to cry, but I wasn't quite sure how to do that either. My tiny little witch stretched onto her toes, and stroked my hair off my forehead. She kissed my cheek, and stepped away.

I couldn't look at her anymore. There was fire and ice pricking the corner of my eyes. I was going to fucking cry. I didn't even know I knew how to cry anymore. I left without a backward glance. I couldn't chance it. I cringed hearing her whisper of goodbye, and willed myself home.

I am Draco Malfoy. I do not cry over women. I cry when Harry Potters hex me in lavatories, and almost kill me. I cry when psychotic wizards demand I murder other wizards. I don't cry over women, especially not Hermione Granger.

Except I was, and I did, which only made me angry. Furiously angry. Practically rabid, which only made me cry more. I resorted to destruction. I smashed tumblers, vases, and armchairs, but it didn't help. She was everywhere. I couldn't breathe without feeling her crackle in the air.

I did the only thing I could do.

"Incendio."


	2. Chapter 2

My Witch & Her Gift

* * *

I had forgotten how upsetting it was. To this day, I didn't enjoy reminiscing on it, but it couldn't be helped. My poor son was squirming in his sleep, and it was my fault. I had clutched him a bit too tightly.

I settled him in our bed, beside his younger sister, and stepped onto the veranda. I needed a bit of fresh air. I needed to catch my breath and remind myself it was the past. I admired my mother's roses glistening in the moonlight, and even managed a small smile.

"Malfoy?" My wife was calling for me, but I remained silent. "Draco, why are the children…oh, here you are." My hands tightened on the balustrade, and my shoulders scrunched, still riddled with emotion.

"Scorpius couldn't find you, and Stella woke up." I spoke through my teeth, and I knew it alarmed her, but it was the best I could do under the circumstances.

"Are you alright? You father said you were…"

"I am. I'll be fine. It's just…" I sighed in frustration, but Hermione hissed, and concern flooded my chest, quickly replacing the pangs of regret.

She looked glorious in moonlight, she always did. Her nightdress flowed from her shoulders, clinging to her subtle curves. Her curls were secured on top of her head with a gold ribbon, and I wanted her. Her pretty brown eyes were filled with concern for me, but the frown marring her features was what concerned me.

I pulled her close without effort, and kissed her brow before caressing the gentle mound of her abdomen. She squirmed, obviously uncomfortable, she didn't stop me. I turned her 'round, and gripped her hips with lascivious intent.

"Your children are pummeling me." I chuckled against her throat, and cupped her breasts. "Draco, we can't do this here." Her nervousness didn't stop me, it never did.

It was her fault we were in the Manor in the first place. I had suggested keeping her condition from my parents for as long as possible. I knew my mother would demand we 'temporarily' live with them until the newest Malfoys were born. It wasn't as if she hadn't done it before, but Hermione is a stubborn little witch.

I ignored her weak protest, and bared her breasts in the shine of the full moon. My saucy little witch wasn't wearing knickers. It really was a delightful discovery while I bunched her nightie around her waning waist. My wife blushed furiously, even as I dragged her to the darkened corner furthest from the French doors.

Granger was always a slight witch, and even bearing the burden of carrying my children didn't add much to her. She laughed when I set her on the ledge akin to a window seat. It was the perfect height, and allowed me to wedge myself between her supple thighs.

"Draco, what are you doing?" She forced me to look at her, and then she sighed.

She stared into my eyes while I dropped my slacks, with the barest hint of a smile on her lips. She was seconds from voicing her objections, but I timed everything perfectly. The moment her lips parted to soothe my wounded ego, I captured her mouth in that gentle teasing manner that made my wife completely pliable.

"Promise me." I think the raspy quality of my voice startled her, but my fingers twisting and teasing her rock-hard nipples was a welcome distraction.

"What's gotten into you? I don't understand why we must constantly go through this…oh gods." I didn't like it when she argued with me. I just wanted her to say the words. I didn't beg her, I simply slid into those deliciously wet folds, and thrust.

"I need you…to…promise me." The joy of a pregnant Hermione was the little known fact she needed absolutely no priming. All I had to do was look at her, and she was assaulting me in the corridor.

"I'll never leave you again." Sometimes she cried, but this wasn't one of those times. It didn't happen quite so often anymore, my need to hear the words, but it did happen.

"I love you." I didn't say it often. I had never learned the art of vocal expression, and Hermione always said it meant more that way.

Part of me wished I had never began this little jaunt down memory lane, but it was entirely too late for that. Even as my teeth sunk into the pliable skin at the top of her shoulder, and my wife's breathy moan filled my ear, I remembered watching my flat burst into flames.

I watched my furniture catch fire, and the pictures on the walls, without batting an eye. I wanted it all to come tumbling down around me. I wanted the fierce flames to lick at my robes and make me feel something, anything other than this gaping wound in my chest.

"What the fuck, Malfoy!" Of course, it was Blaise, complete pain in my arse, who decided it was a good time to pop by.

He dragged me, kicking and screaming no less, from the great fireball that used to be my flat. He punched me a few times, but I still fought him. I was being irrational, I know that now, but then, I wanted this soul wrenching agony to ebb, and I was willing to do anything.

Blaise tossed me into a darkened room, probably in his ancestral home. He fucking stole my wand and locked me in. I didn't even bother to hammer at the door. I kicked off my smoking shoes and climbed into the four-poster bed near the corner. It was a relief to lie upon linen that didn't envelope me in Granger.

I don't know how long I stayed in that room. The draperies were never opened. Words were never spoken. Sometimes, when I managed to open my bleary, throbbing eyes, there would be a tray of tepid tea, and some gelatinous muck I could only assume was Zabini's attempt at cooking.

He really needed a house elf, but they were bothersome creatures. Of course, they would only remind me of her, and I didn't want to think about the witch that ruined me. She fucking ruined me, and I allowed it. Fuck, I was such a fool.

"That's quite enough." The last voice I needed to hear was my mother's, but apparently my wants were no ones concern.

I cringed against the blinding sunshine streaming through the grubby glass. Narcissa Malfoy smiled, like I wanted to see that shit. She tossed open the draperies, and wrenched down the delightfully warm blankets in order to glower at me.

"Go. Away." I coughed, my throat was exceedingly dry from underuse, and she thrust a glass of cool water into my hand. I was grateful, but I still wanted her to leave.

"This has gone on long enough. You'd think I had given birth to a daughter. I mean honestly Draco, lamenting the loss of your love in bed? At the very least you should be travelling abroad and drinking yourself into oblivion. It's what any self-respecting Pureblood would do, but not my son, such a pity." She was hurting my head. She was hurting my eyes. I hated her.

"Mother…" I struggled to sit up, and practically gagged on the fumes of my own body odor. I supposed I had been laying a bed much longer than I had thought.

"You are going to bathe young man. Afterwards, I'm going to have a hot meal delivered to the dining room, where you are going to eat it like an adult. We're going to discuss your friend Pansy Parkinson and her new job. It seems she works for a particular witch who just so happens to have accepted a position with Malfoy Industries."

She left. She fed me that infuriating tidbit and then she left. If I had my wand, I would have hexed her. I probably would have regretted it eventually, but I definitely would have hexed her.

Instead, I managed to climb out of bed and stumble to the loo. The water was already flowing freely and exceedingly hot. I scrubbed my skin until it was raw, but I didn't feel much better. I still felt empty, and vaguely I wondered how Granger was faring.

"Does this mean I can have the guest room cleaned? The smell has been wafting into the corridor, and I can barely stand it. How on earth he's managed to wallow in his own stench for a month is beyond me." Blaise was slamming cutlery onto the table, but I didn't see my mother anywhere.

"I…don't…understand…why I'm here." I didn't recognise the voice, but it was feminine, definitely feminine.

I shuffled into the room, my limbs still angry from lack of use and blinked furiously. For reasons I can't even begin to fathom, Blaise Zabini was grumbling to Potter's witch. I didn't remember her name, but who cares? She was here, and uncomfortable. To make matters that much worse, my mother practically floated into the room carrying a tray laden with piping hot breakfast foods.

The growl of my stomach alerted them to my presence, and they all just…stared at me. I pretended it was commonplace, and grasped onto the nearest high-backed dining chair. I was slightly winded, which I also ignored, and finally managed to sit before my knees gave out.

"He's here? You didn't tell me he was here. The rumour is that he's abroad." The angry redheaded witch glowered at me, with fire in her blazing blue eyes, and I propped my head on my hand.

"The Wizarding Community is easily malleable when Rita Skeeter is a dear friend." My mother smiled tightly, and set a cup of tea near my elbow.

"Rita Skeeter?! She's the reason Hermione is…" I flinched and the former Weasley stopped, surprised by my reaction I suppose. "He looks awful."

"He does have ears." It was her turn to flinch from the quality of my voice, and I sniffed, crinkling my nose.

"Shame he didn't have a nose the entire month he's been locked in my guest room. I'm going to have to have it fumigated." Blaise snarled, and I would have been offended, but he wasn't wrong. At least I smelled better now.

"Mrs. Potter, I approached you due to the fact I believed you are less volatile than your husband and brother. If I was wrong in my assumptions, than please accept my apology and enjoy your brunch. I shall not interfere further." My mother set the small plates in the center of the table, fussing over me, as was her tendency.

"I want to know your agenda. I mean, I can't really tell you much as I don't know much. What I mean to say is, when we ventured to Hermione's flat…does he flinch every time?" I hadn't meant to, but I hadn't heard her name in so long, it physically hurt.

"We have chosen not to mention her. It seems to pain him." My mother patted my shoulder, and I shirked away from her. I didn't want her to touch me. I didn't want anyone to touch me, which was a complete lie.

"Harry, Ron, and I went to…her flat. It was in quite a state, and she's absolutely fastidious in everything, but… Anyway, Harry set us to task and I eavesdropped a bit. It took me a long time to understand their relationship. He always knows what to do where she's concerned, and I used to be jealous. I know now, it's the sort of relationship I have with my brothers." My fingers were shaking while I attempted to lift my teacup, but they pretended they didn't hear the china clatter. "Harry managed to get her out of bed. I cleaned her flat with my mum, and we sent Ron home. He's really useless."

"Why can't we just lock them in a room, and let them suss it out?" Blaise was sighing again, and I had a sneaking suspicion his teacup was filled with spirits rather than Earl Grey.

"Because Rita Skeeter, that's why. _She_ is absolutely convinced Malfoy and that Greengrass bint are getting married. _She's_ even mentioned wishing she had squished Skeeter when she had the chance." The Weasley Potter witch crinkled her nose at her tea, and swiped Zabini's cup, downing it easily.

"Squished…Rita…Skeeter?" I laughed. My mother was completely aghast, but I recalled a roaring fire, glasses of wine and childhood stories with my witch. "Draco?"

"Grang…er…Hermi…uhm, Skeeter is an Animagus, and she was caught in a jar for her less than flattering articles concerning a certain boy with a scar and the brightest witch of the age." There, I had done it. Well, I had managed. I felt like there was sand in my throat, and I couldn't say her name, but I got the point across. I think.

"That explains so much." My mother dabbed the corner of her eye with one of her floral scented handkerchiefs and snickered. "I invited Rita to a lovely Spring Brunch, and I served cocktails in mason jars. Lucius thought it was too common, but I thought it was delightfully chic in a Muggle sort of way. Rita caught sight of them, and literally ran from the Manor."

"Weasley…" Blaise was still putout over his loss of spirits, but a wand in his throat had him sputtering.

"Oi. It's Potter, or Ginny, alright?" Ginny! That was her name. "Now, why am I really here?" She was angry, but considering she's a Weasley, it wasn't surprising.

"Mrs. Potter, Ginny if I may…" My mother waited for the curt nod before continuing, and I was impressed with her diplomacy. "My son is first and foremost in my life. It has been that way since the day, he was born. As a mother yourself, I'm sure you can agree with such an assessment. Despite my son's…emotional shortcomings…"

"Does he love her?" I lurched from the table and stalked to the guest room. If they were going to discuss me as if I didn't exist, well there was no need for me to be there.

I discovered my wand shoved beneath one of the many feather pillows littering the grubby bed and grasped it. I had missed the feel of the smooth wood between my fingers, and sighed. Ginny Weasley…Potter, was not the right witch.

I could hear her squeals from the dining room and it made my head ache. Blaise wasn't the least bit interested in my woes, and I didn't blame him. We're Slytherin, we're not wired for romance. I cringed in distaste while Potter's witch continued in her monologue describing flowers and music. Absolutely not, my witch was not the sort of woman who enjoyed being on display.

I needed to get out of there. I couldn't return to my flat, considering I'd burned it down, but I did have a place. I bought it years before and left it vacant. Perhaps, it was time to alter that. I couldn't Apparate directly there, but I could get near enough. I didn't say goodbye to my mother, nor to her guests, and I suspected I'd get an earful on bad manners at a later time.

"I wondered who owned this home." I nearly screamed. I didn't, it would have been completely unmanly, but I almost did.

That strange little Ravenclaw witch was dancing in the garden of my house. She was waving about some daisies and spreading her skirts over the tall grasses. She was absolutely barmy.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" She laughed at me, and flipped her dirty blonde hair over her shoulder.

"I come to talk to your flowers. They're very lonely. Why would you buy a house and neglect it so, Draco?" She danced to me. She literally fucking danced, and then she held out a wilted sort of flower. "I'm Luna Lovegood, it seems you've forgotten. Did you have an accident?"

"Uhm, no. I haven't had an accident. I've been…indisposed." I studied the wilted orange daisy and waited for her to leave.

"Hmmm, yes I suppose losing one's love will do that. Will you show me the interior?" Luna Lovegood was completely nonplussed and grasped my hand. She dragged me up the half dozen steps, and waited patiently at the whitewashed door.

I couldn't deny her. I mean, I could have, but her strangeness wasn't nearly as off-putting as one would think. What else could I do? I opened the door, which she could have done just as easily. She skipped into the foyer, leaving me behind, and I followed her.

"She looks terrible." Luna wiped the dust from the mantle with her forefinger and glanced over her shoulder at me. "I see her sometimes, and she looks terrible. You look just as bad in case you were wondering."

I studied the empty space and knew it was something I needed to alter, posthaste. Luna Lovegood might be a little barmy, but she had a point. I was wallowing, and what I needed to do was win back my witch.

"You could you know. I suspect you didn't use your words. Words are very important to a woman, especially a woman like her. She's lived her entire life being recognised for her brain. You love her for more reasons than that. You should have said it." I didn't argue with Luna, I couldn't. She was absolutely correct in her assumptions.

I liked the way she didn't ask me questions. She didn't expect me to hold up my end of the conversation. She assumed, but she was correct, so that didn't vex me either. It wasn't long before I was giving her a tour, and completely dismissing the idea of painting the ceilings a vivid purple.

I spent the next few weeks along side the strangest witch I'd ever encountered. She saw my witch in a different light, and it didn't hurt to hear of her. I didn't really talk much, but we accomplished quite a bit. I mean, I vetoed every single one of her colour suggestions, but Luna wasn't offended by it. She'd simply shrug, and move on to something else.

My house was slowly becoming a home. I knew, and Luna knew, it was the sort of home I wanted to share with Granger, but we never mentioned it. Eventually, I owled my friends, and even my parents, alerting them to my whereabouts. They left me alone to deal with my demons, and I appreciated that, until Pansy showed up unannounced.

"You've got a problem." She marched straight into my house, leaving the door wide open. I opened my mouth to argue with her, but instead I was greeted with a levitating Hermione Granger.

"What have you done?"

"I haven't done a fucking thing. She's ridiculously ill…" I moved forward, aching to snatch her from the air, but I refrained.

"Why did you bring her here?" I was absolutely seething, but not for the reasons you'd expect.

Granger looked eerily close to death's door and Pansy, in her infinite wisdom, brought her to me. We argued for a few moments, but in the end, Granger was on my new sofa, and Pansy was gone. Granger was shaking her head, but then she was gagging and vomiting.

This wasn't what I had in mind as far as our reunion was concerned. She managed to land most of her sick on the floor, which was comforting in a small fashion. I really was quite fond of my new sofa.

I didn't think it would be in her best interest to be levitated to my bedroom, so I carried her. I hadn't forgotten how good she felt in my arms. I hadn't forgotten anything, but she was really quite ill. I was worried, really worried.

At first, I simply Scourgified her clothing, but that was just stupid. She needed to be changed, and there was no one else to do it. I could have used magic, but Granger was always persnickety when it came to unnecessary magic. I was never certain what qualified and what didn't, so I stripped her.

I could lie and tell you I was quite the gentleman, but let's be serious alright? I totally took a peak at her. I hadn't seen her in months. You can't even blame me. I didn't touch her, I mean, other than to slip a nightie over her head, and I don't think that even counts.

She was so hot, and not in a sexy sort of way, but in a delirious and sweaty sort of way. I kept tucking the blankets around her, and she'd toss them off. I spent hours at her bedside, applying Cooling Charms, willing her to wake.

I didn't know what to do. I didn't have experience tending to anyone, not even myself. When I was ill, my mother would run from my chambers and assign a house elf. I couldn't imagine something of that nature going over well with Granger.

I sent an owl to Harry Potter. It was the worst day of my life. I'm exaggerating, of course, but I can't say we're friends or anything disgusting such as that. He's less irritating, but if anyone knew how to care for her, it would be him.

He took his sweet time answering me too. I was aware he was out on assignment, but you'd think the plight of his best mate would be cause for alarm. Apparently, not if you're Harry Potter. He simply gave me a list of acceptable foods and wished me luck. What a wanker.

I managed to pour a bit of broth down her throat, but she didn't seem to be getting any better. She moaned more than a little and sometimes there were words. She'd always mumbled in her sleep, but this was different. She was in pain, though I wasn't sure if it was physical or mental. It didn't matter, I couldn't take anymore, and sent for the family Healer.

He was a miserly old man, and I didn't like him, not one bit. It wasn't as if I could be particular considering he still made house calls. I didn't want to risk taking Granger through the Floo. I hadn't been taking particularly good care of myself either, but that was another matter completely.

I didn't like him touching her, and based on the deep furrow of her brow, Granger didn't like it much either.

"Mr. Malfoy, you can't expect me to properly assess her with your constant hovering." I ignored him and continued to tuck the heavy blankets around her.

"She's cold!" I didn't know if she was cold or simply flinching away from his stubby fingers, but it made me feel better.

"It's nothing more than the common influenza, however considering her condi…"

"No." Holy shit, Granger spoke. She sounded absolutely awful, and I froze. "He'll take it from me. You can't." What the ever loving fuck was she going on about?

"Granger?" I stroked the damn curls from her forehead, pushing the Healer out of the way. I wanted her to open her eyes, but they were squeezed tightly shut, her face contorted in pain.

"You can't. I haven't anything left. It's all I've got. I love him." Was she talking about me? What was she going on about? She made me anxious, and I took the opportunity to cover her to her throat.

Healer Bastardface maneuvered around me, and prodded open her eyelid. She huffed and wrenched her face away from him, which made me feel proud. She didn't like him any better than I did.

"No one is taking anything from you, Ms. Granger." At least he wasn't complete shit. He managed to comfort her when I couldn't.

The Healer gestured toward the door and I followed him, albeit a bit unwillingly. I didn't want to leave her side. I wanted to watch her chest rise and fall. I wanted to force a bit of broth down her throat. I wanted her to wake.

"Isn't there anything you can do?" I probably looked a fright. I was sure my hair was channeling Harry Potter, and even my clothing was rumpled.

"Mr. Malfoy, it really is best to let it run its course. It's my understanding Ms. Granger has certain sensitivities where Healing Potions are concerned and…"

"Yeah, I know. It was a reaction from a skirmish during wartime. She needed numerous Potions a day in order to recover, and now she doesn't tolerate them well, but, you're a Healer. Surely, there must be something." Healer Bastardface smiled at me, but not a real smile, one of those condescending 'isn't he adorable' sort of smiles that made me want to punch him.

"Mr. Malfoy, you really need to calm yourself. There's only one acceptable Potion for her illness and it would be unethical to provide it. I'm sure you're aware of her condition and…"

"Condition? She's ill. You're a Healer. I don't know anything beyond that, that's what you're for." He was talking in riddles and he made my head ache. I glared at his faded lime green robes and the remnants of his grey hair, with visions of throttling him dancing in my head.

"She's with child, of course, nearly three months gone. I assumed…"

I didn't hear anything else he said. I don't even remember him leaving my house. I vaguely recall the sound of my Floo, but that's it. My head was spinning, and I didn't know how to process the information.

My witch was pregnant. She was going to have a child. She was going to have my child. It had to be my child. She wasn't the sort of witch to slag about.

I had never really considered having a child. It was expected of me, eventually, but I never put much thought into it. Everything was different now. I wanted to be angry with her. She kept this from me. She left me and…I paused. I wondered if she had known before she left me. I considered the ramifications, and decided it didn't change anything. I still wanted her. I still…loved her.

I didn't want to think about it anymore. I simply wanted her to be well. I wanted to see her pretty brown eyes open. I wanted to discuss everything with her before I made completely illogical rash decisions. I wanted to hold her. I wanted to tell her I loved her, but I couldn't do that if she didn't fucking wake up.

Instead, I showered quickly and climbed into bed with her. I had been sleeping beside her, not that she was aware at all. I had never done that before. I was always afraid it would mean something more than I wanted it too. I wasn't afraid anymore.

Sometimes she would sigh and relax into me, and it was the best feeling in the world. I fervently hoped when she recovered, she didn't bolt, but one never knows where Hermione Granger was concerned.

A few more days passed just the same, and I had taken to begging. I wasn't even ashamed. I held conversations with her that were nothing more than me speaking to myself.

"Were you ever going to tell me? I reckon you weren't aware before you left me. At least, I like to think so. Please open your eyes. Fuck, I wish you hadn't been so stubborn. You could have just opened your gift…"

I was sitting by her beside. It had become this strange little habit. Wake, force a bit of dry toast down, drink a bit of tepid tea, and sit by Granger's side. I'd force her to drink a bit of tea or even some broth, and I imagined it's how one would feed a child. It caused a strange fluttering in my chest that I didn't hate.

I nearly jumped to the ceiling when she touched my hand. I had been lost in my own thoughts, daydreams filled with bushy haired Slytherins. My lips parted, but it was her voice that filled the room, despite its raspy quality.

"Water." Finally, there was no guesswork involved. She asked, and I was happy to oblige.

I'd run through my supply of paper cups, and hadn't washed a fucking thing since Pansy brought her here. I smirked at the crystal goblet, and waited patiently for her snarky Gryffindorness to shine through. Her eyes glanced up at me, and I could see hints of exasperation and fondness even as I aided her in sitting.

I didn't know what to say. What could I say? I didn't know what to do, which really seemed to be the common theme for the past week or so. I stared at her. I drank in her flattened knotted curls, and her tired brown eyes. I watched her wince from her slow movements, and assumed her body was thoroughly angry with her for the lack of movement. It was uncomfortable, but also soothing at the same time, until some monstrous pile of Dementor dung rapped on my door.

I didn't want to leave her. I didn't want anyone visiting me. I didn't want a lot of fucking things, but that bastard was still knocking. I didn't have a choice in the matter. I sighed, and did what was expected of me.

"What are you doing here? Why…why do you keep doing this?" I groaned, my fingers itching to wrap around the waspish throat of Astoria Greengrass.

"Hello Draco. I thought I'd remind you my parents are having a garden party and…" She batted her eyes and twirled a pink parasol. Why.

"That's not going to happen. I didn't respond to the invitation, which was a pretty fucking clear indication I have absolutely zero interest in attending. Run along now. I'm sure there's another unsuspecting wizard you can catch in your honeypot."

"Draco! What do you mean you're not coming?" So much for getting this annoying bint out of my house without alerting Granger. Whoever told the Greengrass family my address was going to die a horrible death.

"Exactly as I said. We've already had this conversation, Tori. I'm not interested in you, not in the least. You said you understood. You apologised for your abysmal manners. I have company, and I'd rather return to her." I gestured toward my closed bedroom door, and I watched those dark eyes narrow into tiny slits of rage.

"Company?! What do you mean you have company?! I only said that to entice you, but that obviously wasn't working in the least." She huffed, fluffing her stupid pink dress, and I rolled my eyes. I just wanted her to fucking leave, but the gods were laughing at me. "Wait, you said she. Is she in your bedroom no less? If you simply have company, why aren't they in the guest room?!" Astoria was shouting, and this wasn't the time to dance around the issue.

"Look, Tori. I understand your parents have filled your head with notions of marrying the Malfoy heir, but that's not going to fucking happen. The sooner you accept it, the better. I have someone here who is very important to me, and I haven't the time to dally with you." It wasn't perfect, and it wasn't the entire truth, but it was a step in the right direction.

"Important to you, isn't that a laugh. You're the most important person in your life. No one is more important to you than yourself."

"She. Is." I was seething, and my fingers flexed toward the pocket of my lounge pants. Astoria Greengrass was going to get hexed, and she didn't even realise her precarious situation.

"Oh I see, _she_ is. I wonder who she is, don't even bother telling me it doesn't matter, I'm going in there."

Tori marched directly toward my bedroom and literally shoved me out of the way. I hurried passed her, only to see Granger's knees buckling. I don't how I did it, but I managed to catch her about the waist before she hit the floor. I held her tight and glowered at both witches.

"Draco, she's unwell. You could have told me…"

"Dammit Granger, what are you doing you stupid little witch?!" I was angry. I was angry with Granger for leaving my bed, though I couldn't blame her, and I was angry at Tori for showing up.

"I need the loo." Granger mumbled, clearly embarrassed, and I kicked myself for not thinking of it.

I pretended Tori was invisible and lifted Granger into my arms. She weighed less, and I didn't like that, not in the least. I pushed open the washroom door with my shoulder, and set her on her feet near the toilet.

"I can manage."

"Bollocks. You've done a shit job thus far, haven't you then?" Granger's stomach heaved, and damned if she didn't vomit on my feet. Fantastic.

I sat her on the toilet without bothering with her nightgown. She could deal with that bit. I pretended there wasn't slimy sick between my toes, and turned on the taps for the shower. I would have stripped, but I didn't want to give Astoria anymore fuel for her delusions.

"You best bathe as well, the lot of you smell something horrid."

"Tori, shut up and fetch those ginger drops from the nightstand. I'm assuming you'll be able to find your way out afterwards." Granger's bladder was apparently tired of waiting for privacy, and the sound was quite amusing. "That was most uncouth, Granger." I smiled at her over my shoulder, but her head was down in embarrassment I could only assume.

"Ginger drops and water crackers. You'd think your company was expecting…Draco!" Tori dropped everything and it slid across the floor. I knew she was glowering at me, but I didn't care. "Does your father know what…"

"Yes." I had owled my father directly after the visit from Healer Bastardface. He hadn't replied, and I didn't bother to reflect upon what it all meant.

Astoria softened slightly, and actually got down on her little Pureblood knees and gathered that which she had dropped. She studied Granger, still perched on the toilet, and then looked to me. She was struggling with something, but I still wanted her to fuck right off.

"That's why she's important to you isn't it?" I watched Granger's shoulders sag, and I knew that she knew, that I knew. If you can make a bit of sense of that, you definitely deserve a drink.

I lifted Granger effortlessly, and sat her on the edge of the bathing tub. I waited a moment to make sure she wouldn't fall, and then gestured toward the bedroom. Tori frowned but in the end, she nodded.

"No. It's ridiculous to even insinuate. I'm not the least bit interested in arguing with you. I'm not going to explain myself to you. I'm not going to divulge the deep dark secrets of my heart when the object of my affections hasn't been told. She's important to me, and she has been for a long time now. For the love of Merlin, get the fuck out."

Astoria tapped her foot and flipped her dark hair over her shoulder.

"Your parents never made mention…"

"It isn't my parents job, or anyone else's for that matter to inform _you_ of the goings on in my life. You are not part of my life. You are nothing. You are an irritating, pain in the arse child who expects the world gifted to you on a golden platter. You are an annoyance, and even if I didn't have exactly what I wanted sitting in my washroom, I would never fucking choose you. Get the fuck out." I know, I wasn't particularly nice, but I'm a Malfoy. I might have changed for the better, but the git in me still lives strong.

"You unbelievable bastard." Astoria shouted, quite a lot, but I stopped listening. I drew my wand, and her eyes grew as big as saucers, but in the end, she left.

I was hesitant in returning to the washroom, but I didn't have a choice in the matter. I couldn't leave Granger to her own devices. I knew, despite her condition she was going to barrage me with questions, and I deserved it, I suppose.

I didn't think I'd see her sitting on the bottom of the bathing tub. I quickly stripped off the rest of my clothes and stepped in behind her. She didn't even acknowledge that I was there, until I asked her to scoot forward. She frowned, but did as I bid.

It was easy to lift her to her feet. She was practically a rag doll in my arms. Her hair was sodden and ridiculously heavy, but I tossed it over her shoulder and propped her against me. I even kissed her bare shoulder, because fuck it.

"What are you doing?"

I ignored her for a moment. I didn't really have an answer and simply saying 'caring for you' would never do as a response. It was entirely too womanly for my tastes. Instead, I told her to shut up and gave her a play by play of my intended actions.

I washed her hair and I don't know how she put up with that mess. It was thick and curled and did whatever it wanted, just like her. I probably used too much everything, but she wasn't speaking to me at the moment. I could do whatever I liked, which only made my cock hard.

I filled the tub with water, deciding it was probably best if she soaked for a bit. I imagined her muscles were aching and quite sore. Mine would have been if I had lain in bed for a week.

"You said you loved me." I hadn't intended to discuss her propensity for sleep talking, but it had happened just the same.

"I'm sorry…" I hated the way she said it. I hated the way it made me wonder if she'd meant it. I hated everything about it, and I shook her. I caught myself so it wasn't overly hard, but even so.

It was easy to sit in the bathing tub with her nestled against me. It was almost as if we had spent years doing such things. I washed her, and it was so fucking hard to keep my head. I forced her to lay her head upon my shoulder, and I couldn't resist kissing her throat.

Fuck I had missed her. My arm curved around her waist, and I knew she could feel my erection jabbing her back, but I didn't care. It wasn't just about sex, it was her. There was something about _her_ that was completely irresistible.

"Don't apologise. Don't…ever apologise." I cupped her breasts under the guise of washing them. I mean, I did have a soapy cloth, and she wasn't objecting.

I stared at her soapy nipples, hardening in the white froth, and teased them. I wanted a reaction. I wanted her to shout at me, or succumb, something anything. Granger's back arched into my hands, and I bit her earlobe.

"What do you want from me?" Her voice was breathy and soft, making me growl.

I skimmed over her stomach, smirking when her legs fell open. I touched her, gently, with little strokes. I wanted to spin her around and impale her, but that wasn't an option. I'm sure it was possible seeing the way she responded, but at the same time, I wanted answers. I also wanted her to be recovered.

"You should have opened your gift." I released her suddenly and stood, staring down at her.

I watched the way her shoulders slumped, and her head bowed. She was mumbling about moving passed everything. She was going on and on about me leaving her, which was bullshit. She fucking left me.

I yanked her from the tub, and dried her like one would a child. Her displeasure pleased me, especially when I shoved another nightie over her head. I had an entire wardrobe purchased for her of the most delicate fabrics imaginable. She would have known that if she hadn't left me.

I combed out her hair, carefully keeping my towel tucked around my waist. It was something my mother had done for me when I was a child, and I always found it comforting. It was different with Granger than with my mother, and I suppose it was due to my depths of feelings for her. I love my mother, I've always loved my mother, but finally admitting I loved Hermione Granger was life altering.

"You left me." I had a ridiculously long diatribe thought out, but when the moment came, the thoughts had dissipated.

It was difficult to leave her tucked into my bed, but I couldn't discuss anything with her while wearing a towel. I rummaged through my closet, and decided on lounge pants. I had discovered them while shopping for my witch's clothing. Yes, I had done that bit myself, for the most part.

"You left me, and I knew you meant it. I knew you weren't coming back, and I didn't like the way it made me feel. I burned my flat to the ground, and it didn't change a fucking thing. You were still gone, and I still hated it."

"Y-you never said…" She was on the verge of hyperventilating and I couldn't have that. "How did I get here?" She was shaking her head, and I knew her. I knew she was going to stammer and cry.

"Pansy brought you." I was standing near the foot of the bed, and her eyes, her big beautiful brown eyes were shining with unshed tears. "You never said either."

She stammered, just like I knew she would. I could barely make a bit of sense of the words. I had no idea what she was trying to say, and I didn't care.

I wound up climbing into my bed beside her. She fell into me, and I grasped her, and it was just this huge tumble of limbs. It felt like home. I felt whole, and I knew, I could never let her go again.

I was…suddenly intrigued with the idea of life growing within her. She was shivering, so it was a simple matter to tuck the coverlet around her, but I paused. I was suddenly so incredibly nervous. I held my breath and slid my hand between the coverlet and her nightie. I wanted to feel the place where life resided.

"However were you going to escape me…with this?" I kept expecting her abdomen to dance with life, but it was too soon for such things. It didn't stop me from hoping though.

"I wasn't going to keep it."

I thought she had fucking reached into my chest and torn my heart from its place. I barely recognised the growl rumbling in throat and my head was swimming with absolute blind fury. I barely recalled digging my fingers into her jaw, forcing her to look at me.

The moment those terrified pools of green flecked brown met mine, I exhaled harshly and relented slightly. My head crashed into hers and my heart, gods, my heart ached from the pain of it.

"You would do that? You would do that to me? You hate me that fucking much?" I was on the verge of tears, fucking tears. She was killing me, but I needed to know the truth. I needed it the way others need air.

"No! I couldn't. I couldn't even if I tried…which I didn't. Luna, I-I talked to Luna and she convinced me…otherwise."

The air expelled from my lungs in a great whoosh and I was suddenly exhausted. I curled into her side, my head upon her breast, and now it was her, comforting me. I reveled in the feel of her fingers in my hair, the sound of her rapid heartbeat beneath my ear and listened.

I didn't agree with her deductions. I was almost offended that she thought I'd be ashamed. As if I could ever be ashamed of my child, of her. I was shocked to the core how easily she had lost faith in me, yet, I hadn't really given her reason to have faith in me.

I needed to breathe. I needed a moment to compose myself and rectify the mess I had made. It was her mess too, we were both inexplicably stupid, but it was up to me to fix it. I was going to get her to open that fucking box if it was the last thing I ever did. I wasn't going to allow my child to be born without the luxury of bearing my name.

Granger's eyes were drooping, and I knew she was utterly exhausted. There was nothing I wanted more, than to slip into slumber with her, but I had owls to send. I had crow to eat. I had to willingly speak with Harry fucking Potter.

Blaise told me I was an idiot. He claimed even someone as emotionally defunct as me, should know better than to just hand Hermione Granger a box without saying a word. He wasn't wrong, but I had never done it before. I thought I could get away with keeping her, without saying the necessary words. I was wrong. I admit it. Are you happy now?

Harry Potter laughed at me. I Floo called him and he laughed at me. I didn't see what was particularly funny, but he mumbled something about how it had taken me long enough, and I better not hurt her. I'm not exactly positive, I mostly tuned him out. He has a rather irritating voice. He promised to drag along the Weasel and I gagged. Everything was going fucking swimmingly.

I left it up to Luna Lovegood to contact Granger's parents. What the fuck was I going to say to them? How the hell was I going to contact them? She had a way with words, and I left her too it.

I ordered Blaise to speak with my parents. I had a sneaking suspicion my father had something to do with Granger's mysterious illness. She had mentioned 'Lucius Malfoy's stupid tea' on more than one occasion during her delirium.

I didn't want to listen to my father telling me not to be rash. I didn't know if he would actually say that considering how fond he was of Granger, but it was best not to put it to the test. My mother was onboard, at least she seemed that way the last time I saw her, and I prayed that hadn't changed.

When I went back to my bedroom, Granger was sprawled upon the pillows, whimpering in her sleep. Her nose crinkled, her lips parted and I was wrecked. She always wrecked me. How did I not see it? How did I not know?

I utilised my inner Slytherin and stealthily climbed into bed, and ducked under the coverlet. My pretty little Granger gasped while I was busy drawing her nightie over her hips. She harrumphed, but in the end, it was shoved under her impressive bust, and I had crawled between her legs.

It definitely did not escape my notion that her knickers were damp. It seemed I still had an affect on her, which pleased me greatly. I was still somewhat insecure where Granger was concerned. I fully believed she loved me, but sometimes love wasn't enough, even I knew that much.

I lowered my head, ignoring her muted protests and kissed the soft skin just beneath her navel. I sighed against her, my hands caressing her bare thighs. It was extraordinary to realise my child was growing within my witch.

"Granger, there's a baby in there. There are little bits of you, little bits of me, smushed together. We're having a baby, Granger, that's ours." Fuck I was being sickeningly sentimental, but I didn't care.

"Technically…"

I was going to throttle her. She _would_ be the sort of witch to drone on and on about the mechanics of it all. I wasn't stupid. I would have bested her at Hogwarts if I hadn't been so distracted by little things like fucking Voldemort. I knew _she_ was having a child, but even so, it was part mine.

It was easy to allow her to tick off all the reasons I should not say 'we're having a baby', while I toyed with her knickers. I kissed the inside of her left thigh, and she sputtered. I inhaled deeply against the cotton at the apex of her thighs, and caught the lace between my teeth.

She tossed the light quilt off my head and her eyes were saucers. I smiled at her, a real smile. If I had to tie her to my bedpost for all eternity, Hermione Granger was never leaving me again.

"You can't just shag me into submission!" That was a lie. I could. I wanted too, but I was perfectly situated between her naked thighs, might as well take advantage of that, and make her blush.

"My darling little Gryffindor, I'm not going to shag you, Princess." I wasn't disappointed by the rose hue heating her face.

She gulped visibly hard, and I winked. Her chest rose and fell while I slid those sexy lacey knickers down her thighs. She licked her parted lips, and I ached to kiss her. I was no longer going to deny myself my desires. Why should I?

It was second nature to crawl up her body. It was also instinct to dally over her breasts. Despite the fact they were still covered, they were absolutely divine, and her little pants didn't hurt either. I braced most of my weight on my arms, I didn't want to injure our child after all.

She sighed, and it was the sweetest sound I'd ever heard. I teased her, lightly pressing my lips to the side of her throat, and her breath hitched, gargling in her mouth. I laid soft, sweet kisses to her cheeks and even her jaw, before I descended upon her lips.

Granger's tight little thighs spread, her knees knocking against my hips, a smattering of gooseflesh on her legs. The more I kissed her, the more I wanted to consume her. Her breath was sweet, thanks to a Mouth Cleansing Charm, and I couldn't get enough. I didn't want to get enough. I didn't ever want to feel as though I'd had my fill of Hermione Granger.

I sucked her bottom lip hard, and tore away from her. If I wasn't careful, I was going to shag her senseless, and that would ruin my plans. This wasn't about me, this was about her.

I could feel the warmth of her sex against my achingly hard erection, and with regret, I moved my cock away from her. I smiled against her breast when she groaned her protest. She wanted me.

I spread those familiar thighs with nimble fingers, and yanked her down the bed. I was through teasing her. I wanted to watch her writhe with pleasure. I wanted her to beg me for release.

My tongue delved into her weeping folds, and her fingers were in my hair. I was amused by her nonverbal responses. Perhaps she'd always been so demanding, but it didn't matter. I was busy thrusting my tongue into her, just for the sake of hearing her strangled moans.

Her hips were moving so erratically, I was forced to hold them still. Granger kept muttering, which was such a fucking turn on. She came hard and fast, but I kept on. I wanted her wilted with satisfaction.

"I can't. I can't."

"Yes, you can." I spoke against her, knowing it would drive her mad, and it did.

Of course, Harry Potter and his sidekick, cracked open my bedroom door. A gentleman would have stopped. A gentleman would have allowed his love to compose herself. A gentleman would have…a lot of things, but let's face it, I've never been a gentleman.

I nipped that ridiculously hard, throbbing bulb, swiping my tongue across it. Her fingernails scraped my skull. Her back arched off the bed, and I hoped her breasts were not on display.

"Oh Gods, yessss."

"Hermione?" I assumed Harry Potter and his personal idiot were poking their heads into my room, but I didn't care. I probably should have, but I didn't. I was a man on a mission and it was almost complete.

"GET OUT HARRY!" I laughed lightly, but the vibration of it all had my witch quivering, practically sobbing. "Yes, yes, yes, Gods, yes." She fluttered madly and then collapsed. My job was done.

Potter and the idiot were mumbling, but I wasn't listening. I was dragging Granger's sticky nightie down her sweaty body. I was resting my head on her abdomen, listening to her heartbeat. I was wondering if we were having a son or a daughter, and if I'd scarred them for life.

"I want you, Granger." She misinterpreted my words, just the way I knew she would.

You see, Hermione Granger might be a woman, but she's an exceedingly logical woman. It always takes her longer than the average witch to realise when someone is speaking of feelings rather than something tangible. I loved that about her.

She wanted me to shag her and was surprised when I declined. I gave her an easy excuse. I was more than aware it was impossible to skewer my child, but it was the best I could do under such short notice. If I confused her, I could escape the bed and force her to rise as well.

Little did she know, we had guests. She also didn't know she wasn't returning to her flat. She was staying here. She was going to marry me. She was going to provide me with numerous Malfoys. She was going to let me love her, the way I always should have, and she didn't have a choice in the matter.

I'm not going to go into any more detail. If that's what you're looking for, then by all means, have tea with my wife. She loves to recount the exact moment I brought our families together. She adores regaling anyone who will listen about the first time I spoke her first name.

I do it all the time now, but no, the fact I finally said Hermione is a pivotal moment in our relationship. Don't look at me, I don't understand it either. Regardless, I finally got her to open that damn box. She finally admitted she loved me and not while mumbling in her sleep either.

I needed to hear it. I needed to know how she felt, with eyes wide open. It was that moment that made me realise, she needed the same. I had denied her, just as she had denied me. We were both incredibly stupid.

"Draco! We're not stupid. We're brilliant and…"

"Hermione, we were stupid. Admit it. It's been how many years now?"

"You don't know how many years we've been together?!" Hermione Malfoy stamped her foot, and I smirked, just like old times.

Yes, I still loved to rile her up. It was so fucking easy. I knew. I even counted the five years we danced around each other instead of committing.

She looked so pretty. I mean, I'm biased, therefore I always think she looks pretty, but she was always downright beautiful when carrying our children. I'm constantly amazed by how much I love her.

"It's been a decade woman." I swatted her arse, winking even as she yelped and glowered.

"It hasn't…we've been married five…oh." She blushed so prettily. Gods, I'm a fucking sop aren't I? "Yes, I suppose you're right." I'm sure uttering that little statement bruised her delicate ego.

I still haven't the slightest idea how my mother and Granger's mother threw together a wedding before Granger was as big as a house. She's hitting me now. Trust me, she was as big as a house. Alright, a small house. She really had an affinity for cake.

My father confessed his underhandedness. He's still afraid of my sexy little wife. He made me promise to never tell her that he'd provided the tea that caused her illness. He wasn't aware she was carrying precious cargo at the time.

"I. Will. Kill. Him." Bollocks, I'd thought she left to the loo.

"Love, it worked out fine in the end…" I captured her before she could throw open the bedchamber door and hex my father to bits. Life is always interesting when you combine a volatile Gryffindor and a Slytherin such as my father.

"That's not the point, Draco!" Her hair was a whirlwind of curls spread across her shoulders, and her eyes were narrowed with rage.

"I know it isn't, but at least he didn't have a hand in what my mother did." I shrugged, before grasping my error.

My wife became instantly abusive. She stomped my instep and before I could react, she spun on her heel and was smacking my forearms and chest. I didn't understand why she was so bloody furious with me, _I_ hadn't done anything. Gryffindor logic, I suppose.

"What did she do? You tell me right now!"

Instead of answering her, I cast a quick Silencing Charm over our children. The last thing I wanted to deal with was a cranky Scorpius and an inconsolable Stella, due to their mother's anger. They inherited their love for sleep from me, which I'm sure also angered my wife.

"My father said…he wished us to rival the Weasleys…and you know my mother…" I gestured at her rounded abdomen, which was an error in judgement.

Hermione glanced down at her growing stomach and if her eyes could shoot fire, they would have, of this I have no doubt. I managed to wrench her wand from between her shaking fingers, but I knew she wasn't above resorting to Muggle means. Before I could blink, she was leaving our bedchamber.

"It was only a small Potion, love!" I shouldn't have said that. I definitely shouldn't have said that.

"Y-you…knew?" Hermione was sputtering at me, and I almost crashed into her.

"Hermione, love, you know I'm an insecure man and…well." I rubbed her back in the middle of the West Wing corridor, the Manor eerily silent. If my parents knew what was good for them, they had heard my wife's shouts, and vacated their home for the evening…or eternity.

"And you couldn't resist the idea of one upping the Weasleys. Honestly, Draco. I said I was done after Stella, and now I'm lugging around these two. I'm never going to get back to work, and this is all your fault!" She started to cry, and that just made me feel like absolute shit. It was as good a time as any to be honest.

"Some mornings I wake after you've left our bed, and I panic. I can't breathe because my chest is so tight. I feel as if my heart is breaking all over again. I can't help revisiting the darker period of our relationship. I know you love your job, but I hate it. I hate that it takes you away from me. I'm a selfish man, I always have been, but I love you." I grit my teeth together, despising my blatant weakness. "I wasn't aware of the Potion until after the fact. My parents didn't inform me either, I overheard a whispered conversation. I should have told you, but…"

"You were afraid I was going to leave. You've really got to stop with this nonsense. I'm not leaving you. I've married you. I've given you a son and a daughter. I'm currently housing two _more_ of your children. What more do you want?" Hermione sighed, slamming her bundle of curls against my chest, and I flinched. That shit hurt.

"Three more? What? We're mostly there, and…Hermione! Hermione where are you going?"

 _-Fin_


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